


inadequate.

by Trashy_Cannot



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Beauregard-Centric, Gen, i don't remember lmao, this was probably written when i was having big imposter syndrome feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashy_Cannot/pseuds/Trashy_Cannot
Summary: All around her were amazing people. She wasn't.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	inadequate.

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking through old one-shots and wips and this was found. Originally written on May 20th. Wild, I know. Anyway this is just some Beau angst.

It was so confusing.

Any time she glanced across the battlefield, she would see amazing people.

Fjord slinging dark balls, encased in sickly green energy towards foes is surreal.

Jester twirling in place before a giant lollipop appears in time to hit someone next to her is crazy.

Nott summoning a hand to fix traps for the group is mind-boggling.

Caduceus getting his friends back up into fights with a snap of his fingers is a god-send.

Yasha tearing enemies apart with the energy of a lightning strike is a sight to behold.

Caleb sending a battlefield into hues of oranges and reds is amazing. Horrifying at times, but amazing.

They’re all amazing, they’re special, and they’re unique. Her friends are the cream of the crop, and they can do _anything_. They were hand-chosen, by gods or otherwise, and their power is nothing to scoff at.

Beau, on the other hand, is nothing new. Her blue robes feel identical to everyone else in the Cobalt Soul, and even training with Dairon, she’d still see other monks look down on her. Beau’s fists are bruised and bloodied after every fight, and sometimes the fear of seeing her family on the ground makes her punches, kicks, and her will fall flat.

She’s not good enough, and for once, Beau gets why her parents didn’t want to see her after her brother was born. She’s normal, and she’s just human.

Beau sits up in bed, and glances to the other corner of the room, where Jester lay asleep. She grit her teeth and pulled on her monk robes. She pulls a kicked-off blanket back over Jester, and exits the room.

When Beau’s no longer inside the inn, she runs.

Full speed, trained and focused on the near-empty streets ahead of her. Curious glances stung little when her lungs kept burning the faster and longer she pushed. Her legs were starting to cramp up, and the sweat on her face no longer cooled her off, but trapped her into a bubble of heat.

Beau slowed down and leaned against a nondescript building, sliding into a sitting position and taking large gulps of air. Her legs buzzed and couldn’t feel the ground beneath them, and her lungs were in a similar position, endlessly trying to slow her body down again. Her heart thrummed inside her chest, and her chest was vibrating from the frantic beat.

Looking from where she came, Beau saw the path she traveled. It wasn’t long. Only five buildings were passed in what she guessed was a minute of full-speed running.

Beau’s seen Jester, Caleb, and Fjord get through double that distance by using one spell.

The monk cursed to herself and stood up, facing towards the Cobalt Reserve.

Brushing off residual mud and what could’ve been horse shit, Beau entered, showing her sash and heading downstairs, weary of any other monks there.

Beau felt a sensation of calm the moment she saw the training grounds empty.

She drew in a deep breath and resisted her urge to scream.

Beau stepped in front of a hanging sandbag and let loose.

Punch after punch, kick after kick, didn’t have the same feeling as it did on the battlefield, falling short of a desperate, adrenaline-fueled hit. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and the friction between her knuckles and her wraps created a fire that rivaled the one burning through her throat.

In time, tears were let go, and in the minutes following that, her tears and sweat didn’t seem all that different. In time, her wraps had frayed so badly, that Beau threw them to the ground and continued. In time, Beau could’ve sworn that all she had left in her knuckles was bleached-white bone. In time, her body collapsed onto the floor.

On her knees, the monk gripped her bloodied wraps that had been strewn across the floor. Beau’s tears cleared and she saw hints of exposed bone. Her knuckles were burning in agony, and even punches directed to demons she’s fought were nothing compared to this. Beau flinched when a tear landed on the wound, but curled her hand into a fist and stood up.

Her muscles were aching and numb, but Beau forced herself to stand up, because neither Caduceus or Jester were there to pick her up.

“Fucking hell.” Beau strained, clenching her wraps in her hand and stumbling out of the Reserve, drawing the eyes of already-concerned monks.

Beau traveled back the way she came through the streets, looking like a drunken mess at this hour. She winced every time a muscle froze in retaliation of what she put it through hours ago.

Entering the inn, she saw late-night drinkers stare at her in confusion, but when she spat on the ground, they turned and resumed to what they did previously. She gave a nod to the innkeeper and headed up the stairs to the room she shared with Jester.

Beau pushed through the threshold of the room and stumbled onto the ground, too tired to pull herself onto her actual bed.

She glanced at crimson wraps and pulled her goggles off, shutting her eyes.

Beau felt a slight warmth in her knuckles.

“…Beau?”

The monk’s eyes fluttered opened, and as soon as her eyes focused she saw Jester’s face lit up by a dull golden light. Glancing down, Beau found her hands held in Jester’s, which were healing by some divine magic.

Beau pulled away and held her hands together.

“I’m fine.” she looked down at her knuckles, in better shape than before. “You don’t need to waste a spell on me, it’s probably already morning.”

Jester squinted at Beau’s form. “I’m not wasting a spell on you Beau. I’m a cleric, I’m supposed to heal you when I can.”

Rolling her eyes, Beau scratched some dried blood off her palm, whispering, “I’ve pulled Nott out of Lava with no healing before. I have some sick scars to prove it.” Beau sent a tight grin Jester’s way. “My body can heal itself.”

Jester took Beau’s hands and looked over them, and looked into Beau’s eyes.

“At least let me wrap them for you.” Jester offered.

Beau sighed, and gestured for Jester to begin.

In the early morning’s darkness, Jester bandaged Beau’s knuckles and put away her blood-stained ones.

Jester spoke up when she almost finished.

“You know…it’s okay to tell me if something isn’t going too great.” Jester tightened the last strip of bandage. “If I can be mad around you, you can be…”

Jester trailed before stopping when Beau’s tears came out in silence.

Beau shook in place from her sobbing, hugging herself as Jester moved to sit beside her. When Jester’s arm brushed against Beau’s wound, she flinched and felt her tears come harder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jes…I don’t belong in the Nein.” Beau choked out.

“What? Of course you belong with us, you’re great!”

The monk shifted away from her friend and looked down at her newly-bandaged hands.

“No, I’m not. I’m inadequate.” Beau scoffed. “Gods, my parents were right, weren’t they?”

“Beau, you’re better than what your parents said you were. Every time we fight, every time you help me, or the rest of our friends proves that. Who’s making you feel like this?” Jester encouraged.

She groaned and wiped a tear away, mumbling, “I just feel like I can’t do anything. You guys can light up a battlefield in glitter, fire, and water, and what can I do? Punch? Even then my knuckles start bleeding before we’ve knocked an enemy.”

Jester shifted in front of her friend and wiped Beau’s cheeks.

“You’re not like us, Beau. But you’ve stopped so many enemies in their step I can’t even count anymore! You’ve gotten the Plank King to hear us out, you’ve gotten Yussah to talk to us!” Jester ran her thumb over Beau’s knuckles. “You’re not inadequate. Just because you can’t cast a spell doesn’t mean you aren’t great. I mean, I think you’re pretty great.”

Beau chuckled heartily and ran her own thumb over her knuckles before meeting Jester’s gaze.

“I think I’ll agree with you once these knuckles heal. Thanks, Jes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Angst, thoughts?
> 
> No but thank you for reading and if you'd like, a share, comment, or kudos would be lovely. As with all of my end notes, you're never gonna be forced to so yeah. Have a good day!


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